


Playing House

by vanillafluffy



Category: The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors, The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: Trixie and Jupe have a place of their own.
Relationships: Trixie Belden/Jupiter Jones | Justus Jonas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Trixie loads the dishwasher, grateful for that push-button time-saver that makes cleaning up after supper a bit easier. She’s learned to tidy up as she goes, but a fancy dinner for four tends to produce more clean-up than a simple supper for her and Jupe.

The screen door clicks shut, and she hears him latch the front door for the night. He enters the kitchen with a glass she missed in her sweep. 

“Aunt Matilda and Uncle Titus are singing your praises,” he tells her with a grin, depositing the glass into the upper rack of the dishwasher. “The fish was great. That relish of yours really gave it a kick.”

Smiling, she turns and wraps her arms around his waist. “It was fun. Now that it’s starting to feel like _our_ place, I want to start having people over. Mart and Ben, of course, Di and Henrietta, and Bekah and your Aunt Maggie and the Coltranes. But not all at once! I don’t think there’s room enough for everybody, unless we throw a backyard barbecue.”

Jupe chuckles, enjoying Trixie cuddling against him, hair fluffy with the humidity, pretty and warm and seemingly happy…. 

“I guess that means I need to build us a fire-pit,” he muses. “Well, it’s that much less lawn to mow.”

“That would be great,” she agrees. “And maybe a covered what-do-you-call-it, a lanai? Where we could have some shade while we’re eating and entertaining. This place is lovely, but it’s too quiet.”

He wants to ask if she’s really happy here, but he hesitates. Yes, she’s been busily nest-building for the last couple months, but industry doesn’t equate to blissfulness. The last thing he wants to hear is “no”…it’s terrific that they finally have their own place--he loves the location, right across the street from work for both of them--but moving into the house that Mr. Przewalski left her means that Trixie has had to board her precious horse and only gets to see him a couple times a week. He hopes he can make that loss up to her!

“I still miss him,” she mumbles against his Hawaiian-print shirt.

“You’ll see him on your day off, he’s okay.”

Trixie raises her head and blinks at him. “What?”

“You can drive out to the Coltrane’s on your day off--”

She laughs. “I do miss Cecil,” she admits, “but Jeremy and Patsy are taking good care of him, he has other horses to hang out with, and I can see him on my days off. I was talking about Mr. P--I still miss him, he was such a sweet man. I’m glad I recorded some of his stories….”

Oh. Jupiter feels relieved. He misses the old man, too--he’s lived across the street from him his whole life--but he’s thankful that Trixie is taking her parting from Cecil in stride.

“You’ve got that little shrine to him--”

“Shrine? I wouldn’t exactly call it a shrine,” she says indignantly. “It’s just a nice shadowbox with a few pictures and his Navy discharge and a couple of his carved nickels. He deserves to be remembered!”

“Whoa, easy, sweetie. I agree with you, I miss him too. And I’m glad you didn’t want to keep everything in the house exactly the way it was, or conversely, to pitch everything. I think your shadowbox is a worthy compromise and a fine tribute to his memory.”

Trixie’s ruffled feathers smooth. “You don’t think the house is too fussy, do you?”

It’s a far cry from the pastel bower she’d had out at the farm, definitely not fussy. “Fussy? The furnishings are decent quality and easy to take care of--it’s not like you’re got the place jammed with antiques. There are a few…interesting accent pieces, but it’s not cluttered. So how do you arrive at too fussy?”

She closes the dishwasher and turns it on. “Well, you kept saying, ‘It’s your house, do whatever you want’ every time I tried to get your opinion on anything. All you said was ‘No pink’, which was no big deal, but I want you to be comfortable here, too.”

He gives her a bear hug. “Trixie, all I need to be happy is here in my arms.”

“I’d be really happy if--” She breaks off to yawn. “--we could take this love fest into the bedroom. You know, the one with the great big bed and the fluffy pillows?”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Jupe gathers her up on his arms and carries her from the kitchen, through the hallway that divides the house and into their bedroom. 

It isn’t fussy; the furniture is mid-century modern with clean lines, and there are no patterns to distract from its simplicity. Trixie has stuck to a neutral palette, warm white walls, natural linen drapes, white bedding. The most eclectic thing in sight hangs over the bed, an old wicker room divider being used as a headboard. The only spot of color or disorder is one of Jupe’s shirts that didn’t quite make it into the laundry bin.

The bed takes up the lion’s share of the room, but with both of them in it, it becomes a cozy little world unto itself. Even when, like tonight, nothing is going to happen but sleep….

…


End file.
